


Tender Love & Care

by Deben



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: :), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Swapfell, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Crushes, Fluff, Love at First Sight, Named Reader, Other, Panic Attack Descriptions, Papyrus is social butterfly, Reader Insert, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader has no defined gender, Recreational Drug Use, Smol Reader, Swapfell Papyrus - Freeform, Swapfell Sans, awkward teenagers, be safe and take care of yourselves, he gets all the friends and popularity he deserves, implied soulmates, look for them triggers guys, lots of hugs, mutual romantic attraction, overfell, yandere boi, you take care of your edgy bois
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:40:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deben/pseuds/Deben
Summary: Sometimes, all they need is a little affection, which you're more than willing to give.[papyrus/reader and sans/reader one shots of various aus]





	1. tender love & care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sleepytime swapfell bois

 

 

It’s been awhile since you’ve started living with the brothers, and while it can be quite difficult to keep up with them, you’ve always found your relationship with them rather rewarding.

 

Tonight, though, you knew was going to be taxing.

 

Papyrus had come home an hour ago, and promptly passed out on the couch in a drunken state, and Sans was to be home at any minute from a 36-hour patrol.

 

You’d made dinner, but you knew the brothers wouldn’t be eating tonight, so you sat at the table quietly by yourself.

 

The lights were dull and flickering, and the snow storm outside made the house colder than it usually was, causing you to curl in on yourself and shiver slightly.

 

When you were finished with your meal, you put the leftovers up and cleaned the dishes, moving quickly to finish your task before Sans got home.

 

It only took you half an hour to get the house clean before you came to stand at the couch, looking down upon your taller skeletal lover.

 

Both the brothers had thicker bones than a human’s, but Papyrus’ were thinner than his brother’s, and his lankier form almost made them look delicate. His skeletal grin, much like Sans’, was filled with pointy teeth, although one large incisor had been replaced by a golden one, and it glinted prettily before you.

 

Softly, you pried the bottle of barbecue sauce out of his grasp, and set it on the coffee table, softly running your hand over his cheek bone.

 

Waking up Papyrus was tricky, as he was a bit grumpy when his sleep was disturbed.

 

And by a bit grumpy you mean he’d almost taken your head off one time.

 

That was before you knew how to coax him up to his bedroom, though, and now it only took a few whispers and caresses to get him to amble his way up the stairs and into his bed.

 

You stroked his skull some more, and leaned down to whisper into the side of his skull, mostly sweet nothings, but also prompting him to wake up.

 

His sockets opened after a few moments, groggily taking you in. You smiled sweetly at him, moving your touch down to his shoulders to pat away dirt that wasn’t there, and to smooth out the fur on his jacket.

 

“Hey, baby. We got to get you upstairs, can you get up for me?”

 

Papyrus grumbled a bit, turning his skull to nuzzle into your hand.

 

“don’ wanna. i can sleep on th’ couch tonight.” He mumbled.

 

“No, you can’t. It’ll hurt your spine, and you’ll get cold.”

 

“i won’t if you stay with me…” he sleepily offered.

 

“I can’t, baby. Tonight’s Sans’ night.”

 

He made a whining sound, clutching your wrist in his large hand.

 

You made no move to escape, instead, you pulled at his free hand with your own to drape it around your shoulders.

 

You moved away, slightly pulling Papyrus off of the couch. It was quite the hilarious sight, you could have guessed: you, a small figure, pulling a much larger sleepy skeleton off of the couch, his torso hanging onto you while trying to stay on the couch as you pulled back.

 

Eventually, he relented, sliding his legs off of the couch, and leaning on you heavily for support as you guided him to his room.

 

The room was dark, lack of light due to the fact that the light bulb had gone out months ago and Papyrus had never bothered to replace it, so you stumbled slightly over trash, cursing quietly when you stepped on something that hurt your foot, but you finally found the bed, nothing more than a mattress on the floor with blankets draped a top it, and sat Papyrus down.

 

You made the journey to his dresser, picking out some pajamas, and went back to where Papyrus was already trying to drunkenly kick of his clothes.

 

You sighed softly, helping Papyrus out of his day clothes, and into his pajamas.

 

When he was dressed, you laid him down on his side, and tucked him in lovingly, placing a kiss in between his eye sockets before you left.

 

“mmm.... thank you, darlin’.” He muttered slightly as you cracked the door to the hallway open, allowing a sliver of light to fall on his skull.

 

You smiled back, rubbing the spot on your chest where your soul lay beneath.

 

“You’re welcome, love.” You replied, so quietly that you weren’t sure if he even heard you. The smile on his skull, though, assured you he did.

 

Sans came home not minutes later, with you waiting on the couch, listening to the soft sounds of jazz through a radio.

 

You stood and turned off the device, though, when he entered the house.

 

He wasn’t quite himself when he came home from patrols that were longer than a day, usually.

 

It was evident he was exhausted from the way he opened and closed the door civilly, walking over to collapse in your open arms.

 

He was slightly shorter than you, allowing you to easily supported the weight of his bones, and you began to rub gentle yet firm circles into his shoulder blades.

 

You kissed the side of his rounded skull, and rested your head on his shoulder so you could speak softly to him.

 

“How was the patrol, dear?”

 

Sans grunted, nuzzling into your own neck, and circling his arms around your waist.

 

It was one of those nights, then, when words seemed to elude your lover, leaving him weary and slightly more affectionate than usual.

 

“Let’s get to bed,” You said to him, hoisting his legs to the curve of your waist, carrying his surprisingly heavy weight up the stairs. Despite the lack of sunlight, you’d grown strong in your time underground.

 

Sans clung to you like a koala, making a soft humming noise that you knew meant he was content.

 

There wasn’t any particular tune; it was a monotone sound slightly lower than he used to speak with, and it rumbled through his ribcage unevenly, weaving in and back out of your hearing, but providing an oddly constant thrum that traveled to your very soul.

 

You opened the door with your foot, and kicked it open slightly, shutting it behind you with your shoulder, and practically dumped Sans onto the bed.

 

Your shorter lover’s room was much neater than his younger brother’s, allowing you to easily navigate to his dresser and pull out pajamas.

 

You pulled out your own while you were at it, knowing that Sans would want to dress himself, despite his tired state.

 

You turned away from Sans while you both changed, and took it upon yourself to take the clothes to the hamper, making your way back to sit on the bed next to Sans to settle him in your lap.

 

He leaned into you further, sighing softly when you began to rub more circles into his shoulder blades, eventually getting him to relax fully under your ministrations.

 

“Sing, Please…” he said softly, looking up at you with sockets that were lined with dark rings of purple.

 

You complied, starting up a tune that you’d often sing to your siblings back when you were on the surface.

 

As you sang, you kissed his individual phalanges between lyrics, and rocked your body with him in your lap from side to side slowly.

 

 

_“You arrive, along with the sun,_

 

_Where have you been, darlin’, what have you done?_

 

_You were out, finding trouble again,_

 

_There’s a fire in your eyes and there’s blood on your hands.”_

 

 

_“Come inside, and lie down to sleep,_

 

_You ain’t gonna run, and you know that your beat._

 

_Rest awhile, they’re coming for you,_

 

_There’s a price to be paid for the things that we do.”_

 

_"Fall asleep, and forget all your troubles,_

 

_Dream of laughter and old friends and lovers,_

 

_Dream of when you were innocent,_

 

_Dream forever."_

 

 

 

_“Lord knows you’ve, been ‘round in your day,_

 

_This kind of trouble, won’t just go away._

 

_Darlin’, now, you’re adrift in the deep,_

 

_So just lay down your head and I’ll sing you to sleep.”_

 

 

 

By the time you were finished, Sans had already started snoring softly, so you pried yourself from his grip, and left the room quietly.

 

It took you less than a minute to make sure the doors were all locked, and to secure the windows, taking your time as you shut off all the lights in the house one by one, checking every nook and cranny in the house for surprise visitors.

 

Luckily, there were none, so you were able to sneak back into Sans’ room to curl into bed with him.

 

Your eyes fluttered shut softly, the last thing you saw before succumbing to the darkness of sleep your lover’s skull, prompting you to smile.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed :)


	2. It's Quieter Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus is having a great time being the Most Popular Skeleton at college, but even his greatness needs a break from the noise every once in a while. Luckily you had the same idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was thinking of just writing one shots to help with writers block?? yea. that works.

Papyrus found himself beginning to tire of loud noises and rather unpleasant scents, which was more than reasonable after having spent nearly two hours at what is sure to be the biggest party of the entire year.

 

 

Papyrus was, of course, a social butterfly able to flourish in any habitat, no matter the flashing lights and disorientating layout of the house. However, even he could admit that the number of people he'd seen either vomiting their human guts out or hooking up in the corner warranted his break from the party.

 

 

The back porch of the house was surprisingly empty, compared to the raving party inside. The only people outside were two humans smoking something that decidedly had an echo-flower scent, and one more human not three feet away from Papyrus himself, sitting with their legs crossed and their hands in their lap on the bench swing that hung from the roof of the porch.

 

 

He noticed how intently the human was staring at him, and swiftly decided to strike up a friendly conversation. Stars knows it would be much easier to do out here in the warm spring night than inside the stuffy house, which as Papyrus had previously mentioned, did not smell the best.

 

 

And so, Papyrus strode with a purpose about two steps before abruptly sitting down on the swing, facing forward. In the process it had seemed that he'd accidentally caused the swing to shake and sway slightly, causing the human beside him to lose balance and almost fall off of the swing themselves as they stumbled.

 

 

In his embarrassment, it was a few moments before Papyrus gathered the courage to actually talk to the human, instead taking quick glances at them out of the corner of his sockets, internally cringing at the awkward atmosphere. Curiously, as Papyrusl noted, though, they seemed to straighten up slightly, putting their feet down onto the ground and sitting more upright.

 

 

During the silence, Papyrus took the opportunity to glance around and further inspect his surroundings.

 

 

The yard was large, but not overly so, if you accounted for the fact that it belonged to about fifty college aged girls who cared more about their nails than garden.

 

 

It wasn't very grand, although the grass was, from what Papyrus could tell, vibrantly green, and there were a few rock arrangements and flower beds that were probably attended to by some sort of groundskeeper. The fence separating the yard from the rest of the world was a tall, rather newly painted white fence. It looked sturdy and had little to no damage, suggesting that it was new.

 

 

Papyrus vaguely recalled that there had been a large storm to pass through recently, and there had been some minor flooding in this area - he wondered if the sorority had decided to get a new fence to replace the one that was probably damaged in the flood.

 

 

The human beside him shifted slightly, immediately regaining Papyrus’ attention.

 

 

Stars, he'd been distracted by a _fence_ of all things!

 

 

At this time, Papyrus made the quick decision to speak up first.

 

 

"HELLO!" He greeted cheerfully, perhaps and overly large smile on his skull.

 

 

Apparently, Papyrus’ volume had caught the human off guard, resulting in them jumping slightly before whipping their head around to meet his gaze. Papyrus noticed at this time with a hint of amusement that the human's hair had swished with their movement they'd turned their head. It looked soft and almost fluffy under Papyrus’ observant gaze, and he had to remind himself that most strangers (or not-yet-friends) did not appreciate someone touching their hair. That didn't mean that Papyrus didn't sorely want to, though.

 

 

The human stared at Papyrus for a few beats, probably trying to figure out what this loud, tall skeleton wanted with them. Then, after a moment of deliberation and slight hesitation on the human's part, they managed a small smile, and told Papyrus their name.

 

 

"But," they added almost conspiratorially, "my friends call me Bird. I guess it's 'cause I'm small." Papyrus had to agree.

 

 

Perhaps it was that Papyrus himself was very tall, or that the human - Bird, was still curled into themselves, but they were, in fact, very tiny. It was not only due to their height, though, it was also due to how delicate they looked; their arms were so thin that Papyrus was sure even his bones were thicker. In a single, distracted thought, Papyrus deliberated that Bird would have a very nice skeleton, with a cute, small rib cage.

 

 

He snapped himself out of that line of thinking.

 

 

Papyrus watched with the same sort of awe that one typically felt when approached by a particularly shy animal as Bird shifted their positioning to face him, bringing their legs up so that they were sitting on them, hands clasped in their lap again, more loosely than before.

 

 

"Uh, y-you're scarf looks really soft..." Bird trailed, looking longingly at the article of clothing. Their voice was unbelievably quiet - Papyrus had to lean in to hear what they were saying, and the closer he got, the softer their voice got, until they were just mouthing the words.

 

 

"WOULD YOU... WOULD YOU LIKE TO FEEL IT?" Papyrus found himself asking, unwrapping it slightly and offering the end to Bird.

 

 

His actions were rewarding by an absolutely adorable shy happiness they exuded as Bird gently took the end of the soft, bright fabric of the scarf into their small and mostly likely equally soft hands. Papyrus felt a blush cover his cheekbones as he watched Bird's slender and unsurprisingly gentle fingers feel the material of the scarf, enjoying the texture.

 

 

The blush extended further as Bird pulled free more of the scarf, consequently pulling Papyrus' skull closer to their face as well. He could feel Bird's breath, sweet and warm on his jaw as they scooted a bit closer.

 

 

Staring with wide sockets, Papyrus watched as Bird nuzzled their cute little face into the fabric. Suddenly, as if realizing themselves, Bird jumped up and released Papyrus, somewhat to his disappointment. He missed how warmth radiated off of Bird even from the distance they were at, and the way that their feint freckles could only be noticed from a distance of a few inches away - almost like some sort of prize for being able to get so close to them.

 

 

Not to mention their delightful scent - soft, like lavender and everything else about them - with some undertone that Papyrus couldn't identify, but loved anyway.

 

 

Like early mornings in a soft bed. Like favorite blankets straight from the drier. Comforting. Like home.

 

 

How Papyrus wanted nothing more than to bury his nasal ridge in Bird's ethereal and fluffy hair. Well, not that Papyrus had actually gotten the chance to feel their hair just yet - although a few strands had tickled his cerebral vertebrae when they'd pulled him closer - but he imagined it was something like a baby kitten's fur. But better, obviously.

 

 

"CAN I - " Papyrus started, but stopped himself as he reached a skeletal hand out. It was almost as if Bird's quietness had affected Papyrus in such a strange way that he too felt inclined to speak at a low volume. "Can I touch your hair? I - " Papyrus blushed slightly as he admitted his own desire, "I wish had some..."

 

 

Bird's eyes found Papyrus’ in the dull lighting, and he could see the flashing lights from inside the house in their eyes. But it was so much more than that. 

 

 

Papyrus could hear the loud music, muted by the closed door. It was joined by a symphony of cicadas' songs, coming from an unknown location, and the low murmur of conversation between the two humans that Papyrus had forgotten were still outside. 

 

 

The creaking of the bench swing and the low whistle of the hot night air.

 

 

In this moment, universes collided so that Papyrus was able to see the light from their explosion in this one human's eyes. His SOUL fluttered and sang in his rib cage so loud he feared that Bird may hear it.

 

 

Was this what it felt like to have a SOUlmate?

 

 

Then, Bird was leaning closer, face in such close proximity that Papyrus could once again see the light dusting of freckles on their nose, and feel the same puffs of air from their lungs. The hand that he had nearly forgotten was still suspended in air was taken by their own hand, and gently lead up to land in the wonderful locks of Bird's hair.

 

 

Unconsciously, Papyrus’ phalanges flexed slightly, then began to run through Bird's smooth locks.

 

 

It was so surreal that Papyrus barely registered that they had started talking.

 

 

"Oh. Yeah. My - my friends tell me my hair is pretty soft. And, um, I'm pretty sure your skull is smooth - so don't be upset." Bird glanced from Papyrus eye sockets to the top of his skull shyly. Fairly certain about what Bird was thinking, but not 100% sure, Papyrus waited for them to speak up again.

 

 

"May I...?"

 

 

Papyrus allowed his skull to dip in the slightest manner in order to show them that, yes, this was okay. More than okay, really, but that seemed a little too forward to say since this was still technically their first meeting.

 

 

His skeletal breath was baited as Bird’s hand slowly lifted to his skull, gently brushing the pads of their warm fingers over his cheekbones and upwards towards the top of his skull.

 

 

Bird’s touch was perfect - not too heavy, not too light, not too invasive and not impersonal.

 

 

And the entire time they looked Papyrus in the eye sockets, doe eyes inquisitive and thoughtful. 

 

 

Bird made a humming noise in their throat, angelic and mesmerizing.

 

 

They surprised Papyrus with the crooked grin that grew on their face - uncharacteristically mischievous as their fingers dipped back down to his cheekbones and patted them a bit before withdrawing your hand.

 

 

“Definitely smooth. See, no need to  _ skulk _ .” Bird punctuated your joke with a small snort.

 

 

Did they just….

 

 

He must have spoken aloud, because Bird’s grin widened and their eyes sparkled - oh, he recognized that look…

 

 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to be  _ cheeky _ …” They responded, patting Papyrus’ cheekbone once again.

 

 

W

 

 

Why him?

 

 

Why had he so clearly fallen for a cheesy jokester?

 

 


	3. guitar lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uf!sans/reader
> 
> based on that one guitar lesson prompt? ya. ya.

 

 

Sans had seen you around school.

 

How could he have not? You were  _ popular _ , and not in the way that annoying kids were, who had more money and flexed on everyone - just that everybody  _ liked  _ you.

 

And maybe he might have found you just  _ a little _ attractive, and maybe he’d heard you talking with some friends and thought you to be just  _ slightly _ funny, and once he’d seen you with the most concentrated face looking down at your phone and thought  _ oh shit they’re cute _ .

 

_ Perhaps  _ that’s when he began to pay more attention to you outside of the usual seeing you in the hallways.

 

And maybe,  _ maybe _ it was a  _ bit _ creepy, but it’s not like other kids weren’t doing the same thing.

 

Everybody wanted to be around you. To  _ know _ you.

 

He had you in exactly three classes - sixth, third and fourth period - which of course meant that you had the same lunch as him, as well.

 

Which meant he might have conveniently started sitting in the table adjacent to yours.

 

Which meant he  _ might _ have heard a few (all) of your conversations at that table.

 

Which is why he started to fall for you, harder than before.

 

How could he not? You were just so  _ funny  _ and  _ smart _ and  _ nice _ AND sassy - all at once! He found himself chuckling more than once to himself after you made a particularly good joke - oh, ya, you liked  _ puns _ , too. The especially groan worthy ones.

 

He also made new friends, in his pursuit of you.

 

Turns out the table adjacent to you is the home of the kids who perform at every school function as a band. They were pretty friendly, actually, and completely understanding of his infatuation (apparently the bassist is your go-to calculus buddy. He was a dark skinned, curly haired dude with lean muscles and unnatural blue eyes).

 

“They’re way nice,” he’d told Sans without prompting, a smile on his face, “always help me with my work during free time.”

 

Which of course prompted Sans into a line of thought where he was in your calculus class, leaning over your shoulder, gently taking a pencil from your grasp as he explained how to solve problem eight, mouth close to your ear, fanning your neck with his hot breath…. Watching you turn red like his magic…

 

“The puns, though….” The bassist shivered. “I pulled out a mars bar, get this, I must’ve been lookin’ at it weird or  _ something _ , but they say-”

 

The rest of the table snickered. They must have heard this one before. Sans couldn’t bring himself to care, though, he was on pins and needles.

 

“So when's the wedding, Mr. Mars? Or is this just calcu _ lust _ ?”

 

..

.

 

Sans laughed harder than he probably should have.

 

Loud enough for you to hear, and turn slightly towards their table.

 

He watched as you spotted the bassist, smiled brightly, and waved.

 

Frankie waved back amicably, which made your smile even  _ brighter _ , somehow.

 

When you turned back around, Sans let out an embarrassingly loud sigh of contentment, cheeks flushing with magic and eyelights dilating.

 

The table once again broke out into chuckles, further embarrassing Sans.

 

“Fuck, you really are in deep, huh, Red?” Marlie (a rock elemental, with smooth ‘skin’ that had quartz streaks running through it), the drummer, asked with wry amusement.

 

“i-i guess… they’re just so - so  _ perfect _ .” Red didn’t know why he wasn’t defending himself more to protect his ‘bad guy’ reputation, but the table didn’t seem to mind.

 

Maybe that’s why. These guys… they may dress loudly and wear entirely too much makeup and shout rude obscenities at each other, but they were true friends. They were all softies at heart.

 

Softies with a habit of shipping.

 

They’d been trying to get him to confess for over two months, and now the end of senior year was approaching. Sans, well….

 

… Sans had already accepted that you’d move on to some great college while he himself would probably go to trade school (not that he didn’t have the grades for Harvard), and work at some automotive shop in the city.

 

Maybe you’d find some attractive human who was as smart and good as yourself and settle down with them.

 

“Not perfect,” Riley, the guitarist and lead singer chirped (they were another human, but with pale milky skin and curly red hair, green eyes and freckles to add. They weren’t as muscular as Frankie, and not so nearly lean. They worked it, though, and were quite popular among both the female and male population of the school), “they’ve got a temper the size of the hoover dam. Not that I mind - I like ‘em feisty”

 

“would you believe me if i said i didn’t give a  _ dam _ ?” Sans responded, laughing slightly at his own joke.

 

“Never mind.” Frankie groaned, “you were obviously made for each other.”

 

“Yeah, what’s up, Reddie boy? Go on an’ get’em. You’re  _ definitely _ their type.” Marlie said, pointing somewhere in the distance of the cafeteria, “I heard they were chatting up _ Ice Wolf _ yesterday in fifth.”

 

“Ooohhh ~” Frankie teased, poking Sans’ cheekbone, “tall and edgy? Sounds like you might have a real chance after all, CaSANSnova…”

 

Before Sans could tell Frankie that he should  _ never, ever _ pun again (it was too weird), Riley broke into large gasps of laughter, “or-or maybe it’s the  _ teeth _ they like, eh, Sansy boy?”

 

Sans had no response as sansunderfell.exe promptly shut down.

 

The worst part is that he could practically  _ hear _ you asking about his teeth, to which he’d respond with something smooth and then maybe you would bite your lip, ~~your perfect, plumb, pink lower lip that he’d spent so much time looking at…~~

 

The bell resounded before he could get too worked up in public.

 

Saved by the bell, he supposed.

 

\-----

 

Sans and the band were hanging out at Frankie’s house, where the band usually practiced.

 

Currently the band was on break, though, in Frankie’s kitchen, munching on oreos and other junk food.

 

“I’m tellin’ you Red, I really think you should play with us sometimes. I’ve heard you on that sax…” Riley trailed, pointing to the instrument that Sans had for some reason brought.

 

“hold the  _ phone _ , riley, i ain’t played this thing for real in years. ‘m  _ rusty _ as hell.”

 

“Fucking fine, just don’t tell any more awful jokes, we get it, alright?” They groaned.

 

“but…” well, here goes nothing, “i ‘ave been meanin’ to try the guitar, lately…”

 

Riley perked right up, “really?! Dude, here, I got an extra acoustic one in the van! I’ll letcha borrow it!” They ran out of the house, not even bothering to close the door as they eagerly rushed to the van.

 

“ _ Something’s _ got Riley so  _ riled _ up..” Frankie commented, raising a perfectly manicured brow as he entered the room after a quick trip to the bathroom.

 

“Frankie. Stop. Puns are Red’s thing, you need to give it up.” Marlie told him seriously, downing a glass of milk that had at least five oreo halves in it.

 

“Boo. You’re just mad that i’m totally  _ rocking _ it.” Frankie stopped, suddenly looking disturbed, “my stars, you’re right, Mar. That one… wasn’t even intentional. Damn, (y/n) and Red must be rubbing off on me… (y/n) told chair puns for twenty minutes straight yesterday. I nearly died.”

 

Red was too distracted to notice Riley’s re entrance because he was too busy thinking about ~~‘rubbing off’~~ on you.

 

“heh… eheh.. heh.”

 

“Snap out of it, Sansy Boy!” Riley shouted, pretending to smash Red’s skull in with the guitar like a baseball bat, “Here!”

 

Sans snapped out of it in time to catch the guitar inches from his face, carefully examining it afterwards.

 

“Oh,  _ that’s _ what this is about. Good job, man, you figured out (y/n) thinks guitar players are mad sexy, huh?” Frankie clapped Sans on the shoulder with an approving look.

 

“...no? i just wanted to play guitar?”

 

“Oh. Well. Still.”

 

… did you really find guitar players ‘mad sexy’?

 

\-----

 

Sans groaned in annoyance, his ride plans fell through.

 

He was planning on having Papyrus drive him home since his younger brother had actually gone out and gotten a license (Sans had claimed he was ‘too lazy’. In reality he had no fucking idea how to actually  _ drive _ a car, despite his knowledge of mechanics.).

 

However, he’d been unaware that Papyrus had actually raced Undyne to school today on foot, and was planning for a rematch back.

 

Alphys was staying after for some anime club, and the band had taken the day off for some gig across town.

 

…. And Sans had spent the previous night playing video games ‘till sunrise. He’d teleported to school in the morning only to realize when he’d almost gotten himself stuck in a wall that ‘porting around on such little sleep was a goodway to get himself dusted.

 

So he’d had to go to the front office to get his bus number and actually ride on the giant, yellow, smelly monstrosity that hit what felt like a speed bump every thirty seconds and sounded like it was always on its last legs.

 

With Riley’s guitar that he’d brought to school that day. He was supposed to return it, but was unaware that the band was going to be absent.

 

So not  _ only _ did he haul a guitar he still had no idea how to play around school all day (stupid thing couldn’t fit in his locker), but he was  _ also _ alone at lunch.

 

Turns out Marlie was right. You were definitely chatting up Ice Wolf. He was sitting at your table that day, and had the audacity to shoot Sans a smug look - the bastard. How’d he even find out about his crush?!

 

Papyrus had probably told Undyne who was way to close with all those fucking mutts…

 

Either way, he was  _ not _ in a good mood.

 

_ Until _ he got on the bus, because as if there was some sort of universal karma for Sans having to put up with such a shitty day,  _ you _ appeared on the bus in all of your beautiful amazing glory.

 

And sat down in the seat right in front of him. Sans felt like he might die from radiation poisoning, because you were way too fucking radiant after a long day at school.

 

Stunned, Sans let the guitar drop slightly and it made a low noise of complaint as the hollow wood met the bus floor.

 

Which of course grabbed your attention.

 

Your eyes widened upon seeing Sans, but a smile soon pulled at your lips.

 

A smile that was directed at  _ him _ , not Frankie, not Ice Wolf….

 

“Sans?” Fuck you knew his name.

 

“u-uh, ya?”

 

“What’re you doing here?! I didn’t know you rode this bus!” 

 

_ hnnnn you sounded so excited to see him… what does he do?! _

 

“fff… um.. heheheheh, uh,, friends were really  _ bus _ y, ride plans turned into a bit of a  _ bus _ t.” He retorted, naturally punning in his nervous state. Ugh. At least you liked puns. Or… what if you hated  _ his _ puns in particular? What if you secretly thought he was super gross and maybe a stalker and that’s why he knew you liked puns and was on your bus…?

 

He found his worries unfounded when you broke into adorable laughter, it was enough to make him melt.

 

“Hope the hussle and  _ bus _ sle of the ride doesn’t make you nervous!” You replied.

 

_ fuck they’re perfect. _

 

“heheh, ya…” great job, Sans. Intelligent reply. They’ll definitely fall for you now.

 

You soon seem to notice the guitar Sans was still holding onto like a lifeline, and he experienced the pleasure of an even larger smile gracing your precious face.

 

“Woah! You play? I know you hang with Frankie’s band and all, but… he didn’t mention you played! Neither did Ice Wolf, or Alphys for that matter…”

 

“what?” The only coherent thought Sans could process.

 

“Oh! Sorry, I keep forgetting we’ve never actually spoken before… Frankie talks about you all the time! And Alphys, too, we’re in the same robotics class! Apparently her girlfriend is your brother’s best friend or something…? She mentioned something about you wanting to get to know me better!”

 

He is going to kill that lizard.

 

You continued, though, unphased. “... Well, this is kind of embarrassing, actually… I heard so much about you, so I wanted to get to know you better, too, but I never actually got the courage to actually start up a conversation… so I asked Ice Wolf about you! He’s been giving me tips for talking to you!”

 

_ your blushing face is so fucking cute. _

 

_ wait, what?? they were asking ice wolf…. about me? what was up with that cheeky fucking smile he gave me, then?! _

 

“I guess you being on my bus is fate, then!” You giggled, once again rendering Sans as mush.

 

The conversation continued for the entire bus ride, (although it was mostly one sided, since you were something of a small and adorable chatterbox and Sans was a lumbering idiot who couldn’t string together a few words to form a coherent sentence) and Sans was beginning to relax, crack a few more jokes and enjoy this once in a lifetime opportunity, when….

 

“Hey! I have an idea. Since you can play the guitar, and I happen to be a person interested in the guitar… you should teach me!”

 

At Sans’ blank expression, you quickly corrected your speech.

 

“I-I mean, only if you want to, I… I can pay you if it’s that inconvenient?”

 

In a single, brash moment of utter stupidity on Sans’ part, he lurched at the opportunity to spend more time with you, desperate for something to connect over and agreed.

 

“n-no! i’d lov - i mean, i wouldn’t mind teaching you… i’ve, just, uh, never taught someone… i’m self taught, actually…”

 

Which was a major fucking problem because Sans had no fucking idea how to play the guitar and it was supposed to be returned to its owner today.

 

But, fuck, you looked so happy when he told you he’d teach you…

 

And it turns out that you had the same stop as Sans! You were literally around the corner from his house, if that wasn’t destiny, than he didn’t know what was. He felt like he was floating on cloud nine whenever you allowed him to walk you home.

 

He sent a text to Riley asking if he could borrow the guitar for two more weeks. No explanation.

 

\----

 

Today was the first lesson.

 

Sans had spent the two days he had to prepare looking up everything a beginner needed to know about the guitar: What each string was, frets, how to tune a guitar, common chords, proper holding position… ~~(he’d like to know what position~~ ~~_ you _ like to be held in…) ~~

 

He was still unprepared when you knocked on his door and he opened it to find you in a cute little outfit that he’d never seen before, carrying a guitar of your own in its case.

 

(“My mom got it for me this christmas… she knew how much I wanted to learn…” You explained)

 

Luckily Sans had been able to convince his brother to go hang out at Undyne’s for the day, only receiving a smug smirk when Sans explained he had someone coming over for guitar lessons.

 

Sans knew that Papyrus definitely knew. Which meant that Undyne knew which meant that Alphys knew which meant that any number of his monster classmates was also aware...

 

What Sans  _ didn’t _ know, however, was that strumming a guitar was really difficult when you have gaps in your fingers.

 

Which prompted him to cover his hands in flesh like magic as he explained proper strumming technique that he’d gotten from some guy on youtube.

 

So Sans was not prepared whenever you had squealed in excitement, quickly grabbing up his hand and examining the magical flesh, poking and prodding and even putting it  _ up against your cute little face that ~~he just wanted to kiss until it was as red as his magic…~~ _

 

_ hnnn, reel it in, sansy boy… they’re here for guitar lessons… _

 

\-----

 

Three lessons in (there were two a week; one on Wednesday and the other on Sunday), Sans quickly found out that you had no sense of personal space.

 

Like none.

 

Whenever Sans would demonstrate something, you were either sitting thigh to femur with him, hanging over his shoulder or putting your hands on his own to figure out how exactly you were supposed to do something.

 

Your face was almost always inches away from his own, and he’d almost kissed you several times by accident when he turned his head to fast and you were just _ there _ , being all cute and confused…

 

It made it very difficult to stay focused on what he was supposed to do, and he more than once had to slam the guitar down very suddenly in his lap so you wouldn’t see any tell tale glowing.

 

He would’ve thought you were doing it on purpose, too (along with those adorable string and instrument puns you seemed so knowledgeable on), but you were just so  _ unaware _ ; one second you were all over Sans, the next you were sitting a few feet away and trying to replicate the way he transitioned from chord to chord.

 

He knew that it was just professional for you, but he liked to think maybe you felt the same way, or at least saw him as a close friend…

 

\-----

 

After the fourth lesson you’d asked for his phone number.

 

Just in case you needed to reschedule a lesson or were going to be late, of course…

 

Sans was surprised, though, when you texted first and it had nothing to do with guitar. 

 

In fact, you’d sent him a meme.

 

That’s when you became texting buddies, sending each other memes and puns at all hours of the day and night.

 

Sans felt happy knowing that you thought about him so often.

 

\-----

 

“JUST FUCKING ASK THEM OUT ALREADY!” Papyrus told Sans in an exasperated manner for the tenth time already.

 

Sans had already asked Riley if he could borrow the guitar for another month or so.

 

“they dun’ like me that way, though, boss” Sans replied, same as ever. He was a texting buddy and guitar teacher to you, maybe a friend…

 

“What a fucking WIMP. MAN UP SANS! They’re OBVIOUSLY into you!”

 

Sans blushed at Undyne’s brash words.

 

Fuck… he scrubbed the blush away, but his brother, Undyne and her girlfriend had already seen.

 

He heard Alphys whisper something about a ‘fanfiction’

 

...

 

Maybe they were right?

 

Frankie had told him that you were talking about him more in Calculus, and Riley was letting him borrow the guitar for what seemed like an indefinite amount of time...

 

\----

 

“Maybe… could you teach me to play… this song?” Sans looked over at your phone to the video you’d pulled up.

 

You were once again pressed up close to him, on hand resting low on his femur, and the other holding up your screen. Head settled on his shoulder.

 

He still had doubts about you being ‘into him’, but in moments like this he couldn’t help but hope…

 

.. then again, he’s been giving you lessons for two months now  _ and _ you’d been texting him non stop, so he could’ve just been a close friend to you…

 

Sans had actually gotten okay at the guitar in his fervor to know enough to teach you, and was now actually able to play some songs and teach them to you, and to recognize when your positioning was wrong.

 

“assgore, this song is fuckin’ awful, where'd ya find it?” Sans complained playfully, flicking you in the forehead.

 

You gasped, scandalized. “No?? This is my favorite band! You  _ have  _ to like them!”

 

“it sounds like sum weird mix between country an’ punk, an’ i dun’ like it.”

 

You pouted, turning the song off, “you’re just mean, you big meanie you!”

 

But as much as Sans hated the music, he had to admit that you looked cute whenever you sung along and bobbed your head to the tune…

 

He couldn’t help but get some of the lyrics stuck in his head.

 

\-----

 

“holy fuck.” Sans whispered, staring at his phone.

 

“LANGUAGE!” Papyrus scolded from where he was making dinner in the kitchen.

 

“they just asked me out on a date… FUCK, paps, they just asked me out on a date!”

 

“GUESS WE KNOW WHO WEARS THE PANTS IN THE RELATIONSHIP.” his brother sneered sarcastically.

 

At first Sans had been crushed when you’d texted him that you were canceling the lesson.

 

Did you find out he liked you?

 

That he only fell deeper every lesson? Were you disgusted?

 

It’d been four months, he supposed he had fun while it lasted…

 

But then you’d sent another text.

 

You wanted to go to a cafe with him instead, as ‘payment’ for all the free lessons. You wanted to treat him.

 

Sans felt his SOUL flutter.

 

\-----

 

“Wear something SEXY!” Marlie shouted, pointing to the outfit that consisted of tight leather pants and an even tighter shirt that was laid out from her side of the screen.

 

“fuck no, i dun’ wanna look like my fuckin’ bro.”

 

“Boooooo”

 

“Wear something casual,” Riley suggested, “don’t let them know you’ve been obsessing over them for months. Pretend you don’t care, drives the guys and gals crazy.”

 

“No!” Frankie cut in, “That’s a terrible idea! They’re too sweet for that bullshit. Wear something smart, but don’t go too far. I bet they’ll be satisfied as long as you look like you showered…”

 

Deciding to go with Frankie’s advice (he’d known you the longest out of the three), Sans ended the video chat and changed into some dark jeans and the tight shirt. 

 

Sans had always liked it, it made him look like he had human muscles… were you into muscles?

 

He let out a nervous sigh, here goes nothing.

 

\-----

 

Of course, once he got there, you were the sweetest little Bean and melted away any tension that Sans had been feeling.

 

You ordered yourself some tea and a pastry while Sans himself got a hot chocolate and chocolate cake, blushing at the cashier’s questioning look as you paid for the both of them.

 

Now you were both sitting by a window, sipping slowly between bites of your individual treats.

 

But the way you were staring at Sans’ cake…

 

“did you want some?” Sans offered, holding up his fork with approximately a bit of cake on it. He was so shaky and nervous at the thought of you eating from the same fork that had been in his mouth…

 

“O-oh, no…” you said, beat red. “I’m, um, caffeine intolerant. Can’t eat chocolate.” You explained.

 

Aaaand Sans felt like an idiot. He voiced so to you, to which you laughed at. So adorable…

 

“You’re plenty smart, Sans! And talented! You’re so good at the guitar!”

 

If only you knew….

 

“h-hey, you too, y’know? graduation’s in a few weeks, betch’re lookin’ at some ivy league college, huh?”

 

“Nah.” Sans nearly spit out his drink. “Ebott’s got one of the best schools for psychology, didn’t you know? I got accepted earlier this year… guess I’m going to be staying around for a while. Maybe we can still meet up for guitar lessons, or maybe just chat like we are now…”

 

Was he dreaming?

 

“I mean, only if you’re staying, I mean  _ I _ don’t know what you’re going to be doing so, um…. The offer’s on the table…? I really enjoy your company, and um, I’d like to see you more often, if that’s okay...”

 

Was than an offer to stay friends? Or maybe… maybe more?

 

Sans couldn’t help himself. He stared at you in pure amazement, taking in your appearance and the way that you looked with the sun from the cafe window bouncing off your lovely face and soft hair. Hair that he'd felt brush his skull a million times as he corrected your position. A face that he'd flicked when you were being a brat, pushed away when you were getting too close, imagined kissing over and over and over again, and he just.... closed the distance between your faces and kissed you.

 

When he pulled back, you were red faced - that shade of red that Sans had been waiting for nearly a year to see you in…

 

“fuckin’ of course, sweetheart!”

 

When you didn’t respond after a few moments, Sans got worried, especially when the red on your face kept deepening.

 

“shit, i forgot the whole chocolate thing - are you okay, sweetheart? talk t’me!”

 

Fortunately, you began to speak, although you were avoiding Sans’ gaze. “I-I’m okay, I’d, uh, have to actually eat the chocolate for it to affect me, and even then I’d just get a stomach ache, I might throw up actually, but, um - Oh! I’m rambling!”

 

You looked up at Sans, eyes sparkly and large and perfect. “I’m so glad you got my meaning! I was worried you didn’t like me like that… to tell you the truth, I’d seen you around school before the lessons and I really wanted to talk to you. The guitar thing was just an excuse… I wasn’t really interested in guitar before I saw that you had one. Plus... guitar players are MAD sexy...”

 

Sans laughed almost manically, “before I started teachin’ you, sweetheart, I didn’t even fuckin’ know what chords were.”

 

You looked up, shocked, “Seriously?! You were so knowledgeable!”

 

Sans winked, “youtube.”

 

You laughed as well, holding a hand over your mouth, “I bought that guitar the day I came over for that first lesson, my mom doesn't even know I was taking lessons!”

 

Perfect. Still the only word Sans could think of for you, just knowing that you had pined over him the same as he had over you... instead of taking you down from the pedestal Sans had spent half a year building, all it did was make you better in his eyes (or lack thereof).And so Sans couldn’t help himself; he leaned over and kissed you again, careful to make sure all of the chocolate cake in his mouth was magically digested before he slipped his tongue into your mouth, causing you to make a delicious gasp, a sound that Sans had literally dreamed about.

 

You pulled away this time, and Sans was worried that maybe he’d pushed it too far with the tongue, but you didn’t look upset.

 

“I have so many butterflies in my stomach again I think I might throw up even without any chocolate cake…” you giggled nervously.

 

"I Want to ask you to marry me, but I can’t…” You sighed, before realizing you’d said it out loud and turtling into the collar of your shirt as you groaned in embarrassment.

 

Sans felt like this might be his only chance. Sure, you would probably laugh in his face and call him a creepy piece of shit for even suggesting that you'd be interested in a garbage monster like himself, but... well, love made people do stupid shit. 

And ya. Maybe for the first time since Sans had felt his SOUL beat when he looked at your face, he was admitting to himself that he loved you. In these past four months he'd gotten to know you better than he really knew his brother anymore - you'd had funny moments playing guitar, moments were he'd almost broken and kissed you because your face was so damn close that he couldn't hold back, and deep moments where he'd woken up from a nightmare only to realize you'd texted him some shitty existentialist quote. 

Moments where he felt like if he could, he would freeze time and live in that moment forever. Where he felt like he was going to die, but then you appeared to giggle or smile at him and just... 

“fuck it, if you won’t than i will!” Sans looked into your eyes again, and this time they were just as dazzling as the first time he'd seen you staring down at your phone screen, barely able to make it past level fourteen of candy crush.. “sweetheart, will you marry me?”

 

You looked at him in amazement, a smile coming over your face slowly….

 

“I’m still seventeen for two more weeks, and this is such a bad idea, but… yes, Sans, Oh My Stars, Yes!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys.. um, don't get engaged when you're seventeen, it's PROBABLY a bad idea.
> 
> don't get engaged when you've known the person for four months, it's PROBABLY a bad idea.
> 
> get engaged when it's red asking you to marry him and you've known him for four months.
> 
> haha i wrote this in three straight hours first thing in the morning, it's over twelve pages long and over four thousand words


	4. Another High School Romance (Pt.I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yandere!sf!papyrus x nb!anxious!reader
> 
> TW: vivid panic attack description, if you do not want to read the panic attack, it's after the ////s, okay thank you beauties ,,,,,, also drug use (it's small but it's there)

 

 

Scrubbing tears away from your face, you walked briskly down the hallway, keeping your head low and avoiding hallways you knew were likely to have passing students or staff present.

 

Right now you don’t think you could take someone  _ looking _ at you, much less  _ judging  _ you for your current state. 

 

Or maybe they wouldn’t care.

 

Maybe you’re just overreacting like always because you’re dumb

 

And stupid

 

And awful

 

And currently, you felt like you were dying.

 

Which is a fairly common feeling to have when your fending off an imminent panic attack, like you had been doing for the past three minutes.

 

You kept breathing through your nose despite the feeling that you weren’t getting enough air, knowing that if you started to breathe through your mouth your breathing would pick up until you were borderline sobbing.

 

Every fifteen seconds a traitorous gasp would leave you struggling for more air, diminishing all the work you’d spent on regulating the air being drawn into and out of your lungs.

 

The only thing worse than feeling burning hot tears sliding down your face was the cold  sweat that was breaking out all over your body. It was triggering you in all of the worst ways, making you feel chilled and damp despite your increasing body heat and making your clothes stick to your body.

 

It was your least favorite part of panic attacks.

 

Not that you had a favorite, to be honest.

 

When your arms weren’t flailing helplessly at your side, they found it convenient to rub aggressively at the denim jeans on your legs, scraping roughly over the skin beneath, trying to scrub away the chill that had settled over your body.

 

You were headed to the bathroom so that you could hopefully hide in the corner of the big stall until the feeling of anxiety and unease passed, but even walking into the bathroom triggered bad feelings.

 

The school didn’t have a gender neutral bathroom, which fed into your anxiety.

 

When faced with the decision to walk into the bathroom designated by your assigned gender or run away, you found yourself very tempted to do just that - run far, far away, out of the school and back home where you could burrow under your blanket and forget about everything.

 

But you couldn’t.

 

Even if you were daring enough to skip school, your house was at least an hour’s walk and you felt like you might die if you didn’t start getting enough oxygen to your brain somehow.

 

Keeping your head down, you entered the bathroom for your assigned gender and kept your head down, hoping to whatever greater being out there that there wasn’t another student inside skipping or doing drugs or something.

 

Luckily, you were alone, as you’d hoped you’d be - it was a pretty good chance considering it was the bathroom farthest from the classrooms.

 

You didn’t even glance in the mirrors lining the wall as you beelined for the largest stall, taking your time to close the door and slide the lock in softly.

 

Loud noises were too much right now.

 

As soon as you burrowed into the corner farthest from the toilet, uncaring of probable filth on the ground, you instantly calmed.

 

To further calm yourself down, you tucked your knees up to your chest and turtled your head into your sweater where your warm breath was able to help heat your body.

 

Luckily you’d worked through the worst of the attack in the hallway and were now simply getting your mind and breath back into control, feeling the cold sweat slowly dissipate.

 

At one point you heard the bell echoing outside, causing you to flinch.

 

The passing of the students in the hallway caused your anxiety to spike, but you held out ‘til the halls were quiet again before picking yourself up off the ground.

 

Quickly, you shucked off your sweater, and then your undershirt, which was still slightly damp from sweat. When you put your sweater back on, you felt much more human. Although you’d need to make a trip to your locker to put the undershirt away.

 

Exiting the stall, you fixed your hair in the mirror, noticing that it had been fussed when you changed your shirt.

 

///////

 

The walk back was much more calming than the walk to the bathroom had been, since you weren’t completely focused on trying not to breakdown in the middle of the hallway. You even were able to enjoy the view out of the window.

 

After dropping your shirt off at your locker, you made your way to the class you’d been in when the attack came on, and gathered the stuff someone had thankfully gathered at the front of the room.

 

You felt awkward with the stairs of your peers on you as you picked your stuff up, although since they were in the middle of doing some work, they quickly went back to it, losing interest in you after a bit.

 

…. All except this one monster in the back.

 

He was a skeleton monster, tall and lanky looking from what you could tell - which wasn’t much since he had the hood of his jacket up, fluff on the end of the hood covering his face. It didn’t help that he was slouching.

 

But for some reason you could feel his (lack of) eyes burning into you. Your heart rate spiked, and you were  _ really _ going to be upset if you started sweating again.

 

Suffice to say, once you gathered your stuff, you booked it from the class and went as fast as your short legs would carry you to your next class.

 

But you could still feel the heat from that skeleton’s gaze on your body, warming you up in a not to unpleasant way.

 

Absently, you considered the material of his hoodie, thinking that it must be very soft.

 

Very warm.

 

You needed more warmth in your life.

 

….

 

Class passed by rather quickly, although your mind was elsewhere - your panic attack may have ended, but you were probably going to stay in this jumpy in-between state for at least a few more hours, if not the rest of the day.

 

There was an ever present headache, though, that usually accompanied your attacks, along with a stuffy nose from when you’d cried - 

 

And any hope you’d had that your friends wouldn’t notice was dashed whenever they kept asking you if you were okay.

 

Honestly. Your hair was still a mess, your face was pale and your eyes were red -  _ of course _ you weren’t ‘ _ okay _ ’.

 

They seemed to get the message when you didn’t reply.

 

Not that you really could, either, after panic attacks forcing syllables out of your mouth was always more difficult than it should be.

 

The most you could manage was pathetic blubbering.

 

But finally,  _ finally _ school was almost over, and you could leave. Just after this one class - 

 

… But, then, you were called into the office.

 

It was a scheduling issue.

 

An issue which caused you to miss your bus, as it ran into over time because apparently the counselor was chatting to someone, and it took so long that she only got to you four minutes before school let out, at which point she told you to just come in early tomorrow, but the office was on the other side of the building from the bus loading area, and you still had to get your stuff from your locker and class, and you missed your bus -

 

_ You missed your  _ fucking _ bus,  _ because  _ of course _ of COURSE, the world was gonna do you dirty like that.

 

You ended up sitting on the concrete at the bus loading area, glad that there was nobody around to watch your pathetic suffering.

 

You felt like you might cry for the second time that day.

 

Instead, you reeled your emotions in, surveying the area.

 

Your body went cold - no, hot - no, cold - argh, some weird combination of hot and cold when you saw that the skeleton from earlier was watching you.

 

His hood was down, and you could finally see that it was that skeleton from the news.

 

No, it was the skeleton from earlier today - 

 

  * wait….



 

They were the same skeleton?

 

You remember the story that was on the news a few months back.

 

He got into a brutal fight with some human jock, and surprise surprise - the jock was completely pumbled and needed extensive medical care. He  _ still _ isn't back in school. At this point it was likely he’d have to redo the grade.

 

The school expelled the skeleton, but there was a huge media backlash - monsters had only surfaced two years ago, so the controversy was still hot.

 

A monster student expelled for getting into a fight with a human? And the  _ human _ wasn’t expelled?

 

Personally, you thought it was a load of bullshit, but it was enough for… Papaya? To stay in school.

 

It wasn’t like you were anti-monster, but the whole thing was weird to you. Nobody really knew who started the fight, but you wouldn’t put it past Papaya - the entire school knew that he was a standoffish stoner.

 

Of course you weren’t excusing that jock for perpetuating the argument, or even possibly starting it - but the truth remains that while the jock maybe got one punch in, if even that, Papaya had gone completely nuts on the guy and, as previously mentioned, he was still in the hospital.

 

So ya, maybe it was a little within the school’s rights to expel the guy who’d almost killed another kid.

 

As many justiceforpapaya campaigns there were, there were just as many prayforwhats-his-names out there, as well. 

 

And now he was approaching you.

 

You weren’t ignorant, and neither were you afraid - he wasn’t going to randomly attack you without reason.

 

But there was still something about being in the presence of someone who’d almost killed another living being.

 

And the closer he got, the more apparent it was that he was lighting up.

 

_ On school property. _

 

It annoyed you.

 

He stopped a few feet from you, scuffed up shoes making a scraping sound against the pavement, like he was dragging his feet.

 

“heya, darlin’ what’re you sittin’ around here for? don’tcha know, school let out already.” he sounded like he might have been joking around, but at this angle you could see his cracked face was serious looking.

 

One of his teeth was even missing, a gold replacement glinting at you in the late noon sun. Did that jock guy punch it out of his face? Maybe that rampage was a little more justified than you’d thought.

 

“Y-ya…” Damn. You wanted to sound more powerful, but right now strong emotions combined with your earlier attack were mixing to make you a shaking a leaf, unable to meet his surprisingly pretty eyelights or talk.

 

You cleared your throat, “I, um, ya, um, missed th-the bus.”

 

He whistled. How does that work without lips?

 

“that sucks. i c’n give you a ride if you need…” He sounded genuinely helpful, and you might have accepted, if only…

 

“I don’t take rides from people I don’t know. Especially ones that have been on the news for beating the shit out of someone else.” You deadpanned.

 

It came out very clear despite the emotional war being fought inside of your body.

 

You couldn't deny how nice a ride sounded, though. You didn’t have your phone on you and there was no way you wanted to walk thirty minutes home.

 

Okay. okay. Now to make sure you didn’t ruin your chances of getting a ride by possibly insulting him.

 

You glanced back up, but Papaya didn’t seem upset, just… adoring? Creepy. Super creepy.

 

“i probably should’a figured you wouldn’t. anythin’ i can do to get you home safely? jus’ wanna know y’ain’t in no danger.”

 

Nodding, you stood, rejecting Papaya’s outstretched hand. He retracted it awkwardly, looking you over again. You wish you could tell him to stop.

 

“Can I use your phone? I’ll just text my mom where I am and who I’m riding with.” Eagerly, he got his phone out, sticking his joint in between his sharp teeth so he could enter his password in.

 

He handed you the phone, and it was in that moment when you realized that having a stoned driver probably wasn’t safe.

 

When you voiced your concerns, he quickly dropped the joint and stomped it dead.

 

“s-sorry. didn’ think about that. wasn’t plannin’ to leave so quickly ‘fore i saw you here.” he said by way of explanation, suddenly looking very nervous.

 

It didn’t suit him. You felt like he should be suave and charming.

 

You texted your mom, waiting for her to reply with an affirmation before you handed Papaya his phone back, but thought better of it when your hand was nearly touching his.

 

“Um, actually, can I, um, uh, hold the phone? While you drive? It’ll… It’ll make me feel safer.”

 

“‘course…” he replied, leading you to his car. You slipped the phone into your pocket as you followed him. Despite the car being a little buggy (much too small for the lanky Papaya standing next to you), you could tell it was taken care of, with a nice paint job and clean seats.

 

“I like your car.” You told him.

 

“thanks.”

 

The first part of the drive was very silent and awkward. The nagging feeling that you should be making conversation kept eating at you, but when you turned to Papaya his eye lights were on the road, away from you.

 

Luckily Papaya also seemed fed up with the silence, and decided to start talking first.

 

“so… why’d you miss th’bus?” he asked this as his phalanges started tapping rhythmically on the dashboard, drawing your attention. You were stuck at a red light.

 

You were staring outright at him now, at how his shoulders hunched because he was too damn tall for this car and how while his eye lights were on the road, his head was ever so slightly tilted in your direction.

 

You found yourself thinking him rather cute.

 

Then you remembered that he asked you a question.

 

“Oh! Um, was called into the office, like, twenty minutes before school ended. Got out of the office two minutes after, then I still had to get my stuff.”

 

He nodded his skull understandingly, still tapping his phalanges. Another silence.

 

Quick, quick… need something else!

 

“But that’s only my first theory…” You started, finally after thinking for a bit. His grin perked up in the corners as he gave you a look from the side of his eye sockets.

 

“really, now?”

 

“Yup. My second theory is that the bus driver has been plotting against me ever since the first day.”

 

He snorted. Forget how skeletons can’t snort since they don’t have noses.

 

“She’s always late to my stop. I’m the _ first _ stop. She’s not late to anybody elses’ stop. She  _ knows _ how to drive a bus. She just purposely shows up five minutes late to mine. Every. Single. Day.”

 

He was outright grinning now.

 

“And I’m also the last stop going home. Seriously. Somehow I get home past five o’ clock every single day even though the school lets out at three and it should be, like, a twenty minute drive.”

 

The phalange tapping stopped. Now he was drumming them without rhythm, the light having turned green.

 

“So my idea is that she  _ somehow _ hacks into the school’s system, okay, sends in a message that I need to go to the office for ‘schedule issues’ ten minutes before class lets out. She  _ knows _ that Ms. Brindle is chatting with someone, she  _ knows _ . All she has to do is wait for me to take the bate, and - “

 

You cast a dramatic look over to Papaya, “I did! She won! The only way to retaliate is to leave an old smoothie at the back of the bus tomorrow. Maybe that will redeem my honor!”

 

“you wouldn’t.” he accused. There’s a smile in his voice, and you assure him readily that you  _ would  _ in fact.

 

“There’s a blind spot where the camera’s won’t see. I left a sandwich there over the weekend once, she was so pissed off… heh…”

 

She really was. It was hilarious. And, ya, you might have felt bad since it really was an accident the first time, but she kept on singling you out - before that - to hold you on the bus after she got to your stop and scold you for literally no reason at all.

 

She was also deliberately passive aggressive to you and straight up mean at times.

 

You couldn’t for the life of you figure out what the heck her problem with you was, and you still don’t know.

 

After that, Papaya was much looser with you, chatting casually. At times you almost forgot this was the guy that had been on the news, but that his tooth would catch the light in a certain way, or you’d catch a whiff of what he’d been smoking earlier, and you reminded.

 

Still, though, he wasn’t as bad as you’d thought he might be. In fact, he wasn’t bad at  _ all. _ A bit quiet, yeah, but you could understand being nervous around people you don’t know.

 

Plus it was hella cute whenever his skull erupted in orange when he laughed or how, once again, he was just too big for this tiny car, and every time he tried to adjust his seating and sit up straighter, he would bonk his head on the ceiling of the car.

 

You might have an itsy bitsy crush on the stoner skeleton.

 

When you got into your neighborhood, you started  guiding Papaya directly to your residence. Sure, you were okay with having him driving - your mom knew where you were and you had his phone just in case - but having him know where you live is seperate.

 

Despite how cute he might have been, you still felt weirded out by how he’d been staring at you, or how he’d approached you, or that fond look in his eye lights that he had whenever you’d accidentally insulted him.

 

While you were lost in thought, he pulled up onto your street and parked on the road beside your house.

 

Which, of course, instantly raised some red flags.

 

You’d never told him your address, hoping to guide him and pray he forgets where you live.

 

_ How did he know? _

 

“How? Do you know where I live?” You asked, body tensing and eyes leveling a glare at the tall skeleton.

 

“... we’re neighbors.”

 

What?

 

Papaya looked confused, but then started laughing after a look of realization came over his features, “holy shit, you didn’t know, did’ya?”

 

He laughed so hard he was starting to wheeze and you honestly didn’t know whether to be worried or offended.

 

You did feel pretty dumb for being so worried about him knowing where you lived, though. Also? How did you never find out about this, even when he was on the news?

 

“geez, y/n, you sure know how’ta make a guy feel special.”

 

Aaaaaannnnnd he knew your name. Despite you never having told him. Guess it’s not too odd since you literally were in the same grade at the same school.

 

Ugh, you felt so dumb for being cautious!

 

“heh, no, no darlin’, i know that look - dun’ feel too bad. i know i’m not really th’type th’likes o’ you pays attention to. plus, it’s good that’yer cautious. Keeps the creeps away, know what i mean?”

 

“Yeah, yeah…” You grumbled.

 

He ruffled your hair with his ridiculously large skeleton hand, managing to make you blush even more than you already were.

 

“go on now, darlin’... oh, but, can i have your number? y’know, just in case ya need a ride’er somthin’...”

 

You figured it wouldn’t be too bad to give him your number - he’s literally your neighbor and a classmate. A nagging thought at the back of your mind was trying to convince you that you wouldn’t be being so careful if it weren’t for the fact that he was a monster.

 

Realistically, you knew that your cautions were legitimate, but it still softened you towards him. “How's about you give me  _ your _ number, and I’ll put it my phone later, Papaya.” Two could play at this name game.

 

“sure, but, uh, papaya? is that supposed to be a pun? like, y’know, papyrus, papaya…”

 

_ Omfg _ his name wasn’t Papaya. Well this is embarrassing. So is it Papyrus? Or is he just referencing another nickname??

 

He continued, oblivious to your inner struggle, “i dun’ get it, but you can jus’ call me rus. ‘s what my friends call me…”

 

_ Thank the stars _ you sighed in relief - something easy to remember.

 

“‘Kay, Rus, see you tomorrow…”

 

Well, that could have gone worse. Instead you gained a possible new friend and crush - you practically bolted to your room to enter his number into your phone.

 

Maybe your bus driver  _ was _ plotting something. But, like, a cheesy romance novel instead of your ultimate demise.

\------------

 

Papyrus stared at you until your figure disappeared inside your house.

 

His car smelled like you now, and it was so much better than the scent of weed he usually had to clean out. (it never really went away)

 

But now, it seemed that all he could smell was your spicy sweet slightly musky (all humans had that musky smell - yours was better than any other he’d come across) scent and it made him want to quit smoking weed just so he could preserve it for longer.

 

It’s not like he would need to, though. If all goes his way than you’ll be riding in his car everyday.

 

As his  _ datemate _ .

 

He sighed deeply. You were so sweet.

 

Ever since he’d first moved in and saw you gardening in your backyard out his window, he’d been enraptured by you. By your face, your soft looking hair, your smooth skin and easy charisma.

 

Fortunately, he went to the same school as you and was in the same grade. Unfortunately, his decision to opt out of AP classes this year meant that he wasn’t in any of your classes.

 

It pissed him off because he had to be sneaky and creative when it came to watching you - all things he was  _ not _ very good at.

 

Sometimes, though, like today, he’d see a free glimpse of you when you were switching classes. Normally, he was content to just watch you go about your everyday life, but today you looked upset.

 

He’d noticed all the signs of a panic attack. He couldn’t take his gaze off you. He wanted to make you feel better.

 

His SOUL swelled with pride when he saw you finally open up in the car. You looked so  _ happy _ , and it was because of  _ him _ .

 

_ i’m the only one who can make them happy, _ he thought, _ nobody else can, because they’re all  _ **_mine._ **

 

_ and i wouldn’t mind putting a hundred more kids in the hospital if they even so much as breathe in my angel’s direction. That Noah kid got what was fucking coming to him whenever he started talking shit about them. Nobody talks shit about them when i'm near. _

 

Soon. Soon you’d love Papyrus like he loved you.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it awkward enough? i was really trying to go for awkward,,,, if you didn't get it with all the 'ums' i slapped in. i feel like i made sf paps too ooc tho ugh
> 
> ya, so i was going to make this one individual thing, then i was seven pages in like 'well i haven't started the plot that i wanted to start so i guess i'll just make and ending for this then make another chapter'.
> 
> also i love you all so much and your comments are so sweet and bring me joy!
> 
> This one shot (gonna be two shot i guess) is based off of 1. my actual panic attacks i used to get in hs. like i remember them so vividly and 2. my hs beef between my junior year bus driver and me. still hate her but whatever. not gonna rant. i did that in the fic.
> 
> want to hear me rant more about my old bus driver or any thing else? here's my tumblr. drop by i am lonely. [@beanniebenn](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/beanniebenn) <3

**Author's Note:**

> hey i write oneshots.... sooo.... hit me up at my tumblr @beanniebenn (even tho tumblrs basically dead or sometin) to request something.
> 
> hope you enjoy reading these!


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